4 Witching On A Star (14 page)

“Well, actually the Underground Railroad started early in the 1800s,” Dean said. He was clearly a history buff. “It hit its peak around 1850, so a lot of safe houses were set up along routes people were traversing in an attempt to get from the U.S. to Canada – including along Lake Michigan.”

“I didn’t think the Underground Railroad went this far north,” Landon said.

“Well, it did,” Dean replied. “There weren’t a lot of routes along the lake at that time, but they were building more and more as time went on. The Dandridge was built during that time. And, while the official reason given for its construction was that there were dangerous rocks out there – which was true – the real reason was to help people escape up into Canada.”

“That’s kind of cool,” Landon said, smiling at me. He frowned, though, when he saw the contemplative look on my face.

“How did they get the slaves this far north?”

“A variety of ways,” Dean said. “Wagons and boats mostly, though. The fleeing slaves would run away on foot and be picked up by caravans and then driven further and further northward.”

“Would it always be families?”

Dean looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Would families flee together, I mean? Or would there ever have been a reason for an entire boatload of children to be shipped separate from adults?”

Realization dawn on Landon’s face. He turned to Dean expectantly, waiting for him to answer.

Dean stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That’s a really interesting question,” he said. “There were reports of children being smuggled together, away from the fighting,” he said. “I don’t think that was an experiment that lasted too long, though.”

“Why?”

“Well, think about it,” Dean said. “You would have these big boats, with only one or two adults – so as not to draw attention – and then you would have like fifty kids in squalid conditions underneath. That’s a breeding ground for sickness – and no way to treat the kids.”

“So, a lot of them died,” I mused, more to myself than anyone else. Dean answered anyway.

“Yeah, a lot of them died.”

“Well,” Landon broke in. “We’ve taken up enough of your time. Thanks for the history lesson.”

He moved over to my side, linking his fingers with mine, and started to lead me out of the Dandridge.

“Hey, stop by any time,” Dean said. “I love it when people are as enthusiastic about history as I am.”

“We definitely will,” Landon said.

“Did you guys have a picnic or something?” Dean glanced around the empty room.

“No, why?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Dean shrugged. “I could just swear I smell bacon.”

“She was a slave,” I said as soon as Landon and I were safely in his vehicle.

“How can you be sure?”

“It fits,” I said. “I couldn’t figure out why a little black girl would be running around this area.”

“That’s a little racist,” Landon said, surprise on his face.

“Not like that,” I said, brushing off his statement. “I mean that there aren’t any black families in the area. How could a little girl without a coat end up here?”

“I guess that’s a good point,” Landon ceded. “Are you sure, though?”

“Not one hundred percent, no,” I said. “I’m fairly sure, though. It fills in a lot of the gaps.”

“What gaps?”

“Erika said she came from a warm climate and she wasn’t always on the boat,” I explained. “She’s wearing a simple white dress, but it’s not a modern white dress. It’s just a cotton dress. No labels. No nothing.”

“Maybe her family is just poor,” Landon pointed out. “You didn’t mention that about the dress earlier,” he added.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “I didn’t really think about the dress until now. If she’s been dead for a hundred and fifty years, though, it would also explain the big holes in her memory.”

“How?”

“She’s been alone for a really long time,” I said, pity welling in my chest. “With nothing but the stars to keep her company.”

“What?” Landon looked confused.

“Nothing,” I shook my head. “Just something she said about the stars. Anyway, if you’re alone that long, you start to create your own reality.”

“How do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’ve met a lot of ghosts,” I said grimly.

“Okay,” he said. “What are you going to do to prove your theory?”

“Talk to a ghost,” I said simply

“And where are you going to find her?”

“She’s always around,” I said simply. “I’m going to call her.”

“Well, while you’re doing that, I’m going to run a missing minors check – just to be on the safe side,” Landon said. “I’m not going to be able to let it go until we’re sure.”

I understood that feeling completely.

I had Landon drop me off at Hypnotic with a promise that I wouldn’t do anything crazy – or shower. He was worried that the bacon flavor would rub off before he got a chance to sample it again.

Thistle and Clove were plotting when I entered the store.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s the worst smell you can think of?” Thistle asked, not looking up from the book she was poring over.

“A decomposing body.”

“Not that gross,” Thistle said.

“Why? What are we doing?”

“I’m going to curse Aunt Tillie with a smell as retribution,” Thistle said grimly. “I’m trying to find a really gross one.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“We smell like frying pig,” Thistle said disgustedly. “I think it’s a bloody brilliant idea.”

“Well, I have something else for us to focus on right now,” I said. “That will have to wait for later.”

“Why aren’t you more upset about the bacon smell?” Clove asked earnestly.

“Landon likes it,” I shrugged. “If we just let it go, it will be gone in a week. I can live with his . . .enthusiasm for a week. Heck, I’ll probably enjoy it. It’s not that much of a hardship.”

“Wait until someone else smells it,” Thistle said. “We’ve had five different customers ask us if we had a kitchen in back. It’s revolting.”

“You like bacon,” I reminded her.

“I don’t like to smell like bacon.”

“Marcus likes the bacon smell,” I pointed out.

Thistle blushed furiously. “That’s neither here nor there.”

“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?” I decided to change the subject. There was no way I was going to risk pissing off Aunt Tillie any more than she already was.

“Where have you been?” Clove asked brightly.

I told the two of them about my trip to the Dandridge and what I’d found out. Thistle looked decidedly relieved by the time I reached the end of the story. “She was a slave.”

“That’s what I think.”

“That’s terrible,” Clove said sadly.

“It is,” I agreed. “It’s also good news for us.”

“How?”

“It means there’s not really a boat filled with kids out there being mistreated,” I said.

“Oh,” Clove said quietly. “I guess that is better.”

“Better for us,” Thistle agreed. “Not so good for Erika. How are you going to get her to move on?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Right now, though, we’ve got to make sure that we’re right.”

“It makes sense,” Thistle said. “This idea makes a lot more sense than the idea that people are trafficking kids on Lake Michigan right under the nose of local law enforcement.”

“That’s still a possibility,” I reminded her. “But, if I’m right, then the only thing we have to worry about is figuring out a way for Erika to let go.”

“Which is better than trying to find a boat of real children on a really big lake,” Clove said knowingly. “So, what do we do first?”

“We call Erika,” I said simply.

“Another séance?” Clove didn’t look thrilled.

“No,” Thistle shook her head. “We didn’t call her with the séance last night. We just called her and she showed up. We should just do that again.”

“Right,” I said. I moved to the front window of the store, glancing up and down the street, and then flipped the sign on the door to closed.

“What are you doing?”

“I just don’t want to be interrupted.”

“So you’re costing us business?” Thistle arched an eyebrow.

“They’ll come back,” I replied. “This won’t take long.”

“Fine,” Thistle agreed. “Just make it quick.”

“Erika!”

I looked around the store expectantly. The little girl didn’t appear, though. I turned to Thistle and Clove expectantly. Clove sighed, but she joined in. “Erika!”

Still nothing.

“Erika,” I tried one more time. “We need to talk to you.”

“I heard you the first time,” Erika grumbled, popping into view. “Wow, what is this place?”

“This is our store,” Thistle said.

“What kind of store?” Erika looked around. “Are you doctors?”

“No, why would you think we’re doctors?” Clove asked curiously.

“You have a lot of medicines in bags.”

I glanced over at the herb rack, understanding washing over me. “We’re not doctors. Did doctors use herbs a lot when you were alive?”

“Yes,” Erika said. “Don’t they now?”

“Not herbs like you think,” I said finally. “Erika, the reason we called you, is I think I figured out what happened to you.”

“Really?” She looked excited. “What happened to me?”

“I have some questions first. Were you . . . were you a slave?” There’s a question I never thought – or maybe I just hoped – I would ever ask.

“No,” Erika shook her head defiantly. I felt my heart drop. “We weren’t slaves, but my mamaa was worried that someone would mistake us for slaves. She was always saying that there were bad people that thought we should all be sold.”

“So, you were free,” I said carefully. “But there were slaves by you?”

“Not really by us,” Erika said. I could tell she was fighting to remember. “They were other places. We lived in a small cabin. My papa worked at a local plantation, but he wasn’t a slave. He worked in the house, not in the fields.”

“Did your parents decide to send you away?”

“Yes,” Erika said excitedly. “I remember now. They sent me and Solomon with the people.”

“Solomon,” I said. “Your brother?”

“Yes, we were too little, my mama said,” Erika explained. “She was worried that someone would just take us. So they sent us with the people. We were supposed to stay up there with some other people until they could come be with us. My mama said it would only be a little while until we were all together again.”

“So, how did you leave?”

“We were put on a wagon,” Erika said. “It seemed like we were on it forever. Every day, though, it got colder and colder. Then, one day we stopped. I thought we were where we were supposed to be. They put us on a boat then, though, and we were on the boat even longer than we were on the wagons.”

“Was Solomon with you on the boat?”

“Yes.”

“Did Solomon get sick, too?”

“No,” Erika replied quietly. “He was there with me but he wasn’t sick. When I got sick, he used to sing to me – like my mama would – and he would try to make me better. He would put a cloth on my head and sing. He would tell me that it wouldn’t be long before we were off the boat and we would be safe. He told me to wish on a star, like we did at home, even though we couldn’t see the stars. He told me to wish and I would get better.”

“Did you wish?” Thistle asked sadly.

“I wished really hard,” Erika said. “I don’t think it works without the stars, though.”

“And then what happened?” I asked around the lump in my throat.

“Then I went to sleep,” Erika said, her voice barely a whisper. “And when I woke up, Solomon was gone.”

“It’s going to be okay, Erika,” I promised. “We’re going to find a way to get you to . . . we’re going to find a way to get you to a better place.”

“Will my mama be there? And Solomon?”

“I really hope so,” I said honestly. “I’m just glad that the boat you were talking about is gone now. That other little kids aren’t getting sick on it.”

“It’s not gone,” Erika said. “The boat I was on is gone but the other one is back.”

I froze, fear tingling in my fingertips. “What do you mean? What other boat?”

“The other boat that’s out there now,” Erika said simply. “I found it again. You have to help those children.”

“What children?” Clove asked worriedly.

“The ones that want their mommies and daddies,” Erika said. “They keep crying for them.”

“What do the children look like?” I asked desperately. “Do they look like you?” I was desperately hoping that she was just getting the present confused with the past.

“No,” Erika shook her head. “They’re lighter, like you. They just want to go home. You have to save them so they can go home, like I never did.”